Return To Insanity
by BlahBlah112
Summary: My reunion with an old time friend SSA Rossi, and a series of unsettling letters. God, just when I thought my life was returning to normal again...POSTPONED  sorry
1. Chapter 1

**As ever, I don't own anything that is already owned by those brilliant people who make criminal minds!!! ^_^**

**A/N: Hello there! This is my second story, so I'm still a beginner [that means excuse the rubbish grammar/spelling that may crop up!] This is really more like a trial chapter, so tell me if you want to hear more!! If not, I'll just take it that nobody likes it and delete the story (so review!)**

**I decided to write a criminal minds fic because I love it to bits - best crime show ever! I had the idea after watching the episode called 'Parasite', although, it really has nothing to do with that episode. It is set sometime after the events of the fifth series.**

**So please be kind......I like nice reviews! ^_^**

SSA David Rossi sat anxiously at his desk, waiting for the results to come in. His thoughts had been gnawing at his sanity for at least ten minutes - another ten and he'd be completely insane.

_Garcia said that she would be done 'in a jiffy'. Last time I checked, a jiffy was a __**short **__amount of time. Come on for God's sake, i can't be that hard to find her, she's not someone who going to need to cover her tracks. Besides, even if she did, Garcia is the bloody best!_

He laughed at himself, the last time he was so erratic was when she disappeared.

_I guess it's only right I'm the same when I find her._ He thought .

Then, his phone vibrated on the desk. He lunged for it and smashed his hand into the answer button.

"Have you an address?" He asked, not even bothering to check if it was actually Garcia on the phone.

"Not even a 'Hello' today? At least yesterday you actually acknowledged my technological greatness." She stated innocently and he huffed. She had been a strange individual from the day he first saw her in the conference room, but they didn't exactly have much in common, considering he rejected most forms of technology. Even so, he still found himself grinning as she demanded recognition for her 'greatness'.

"Yes, you are the greatest. Now, please, did you find anything?" He asked, the hope almost weighing him down at this point. He even leaned forward in his chair, anticipating the best and worst scenarios in his mind.

"If I didn't would I be the greatest? She's at......." He could hear the unmistakable sound of typing.

''Madam Mort's Fortune Telling Palace'. Wow, she sounds like a keeper." He huffed and smiled nostalgically.

"You have no idea." He replied.

"Well, as a human being I need sleep, so I'm hanging up now and going home." Garcia spoke at her usually quick pace and hung up before Dave could even answer. He put the phone on the table and read the name Garcia gave him, written on a small post-it note.

"Fortune Telling?" He asked aloud. It wasn't the career he had envisioned her doing. In fact, his biggest dream for her was to see her join the BAU. But that wasn't his gravest concern at the time, getting her to even talk to him could be a problem, they didn't exactly part on good terms.

He cringed as the last words he heard her speak rang through his mind:

_"And you can? Spare me the shit Dave! This was my fault and you don't have to patronise me by trying to convince me otherwise!"_

He was never angry with her for her outburst, only sad that he never got to help her when she needed him most. Well, now was the time to set things right, once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I got a few requests to continue, so I will!**

**One thing I forgot to say last time is that there's big season 5 spoilers in this story, if you haven't seen at least the episode '100', some parts of this story may reveal the plot, and I don't want people getting angry at me! So, you've been warned!**

**As, always, I live on reviews, so please tell me whatever you want about the story - suggestions, critique, compliments (I _really _like those!!)**

**Go raibh maith agat! ^_^**

The cool city air blew through my hair and I sighed happily. Today was the day, I could feel it. Something was going to happen today, whether it was good or bad I couldn't tell, as the feeling in the pit of my stomach could be described as both apprehension and excitement.

I strolled casually down the street, and I could feel the grin widening on my face when I noticed the line outside "Madam Mort's Fortune Telling Palace". I lifted my hood like I did every day I went in and lightly pushed my way into the building. As I entered I could smell the sweet aroma of incense floating through the dimly lit room. I walked slowly into a small room where my outfit was. I didn't like wearing the outfit one bit, but I knew that it added to the 'mystic', whatever that was.

I quickly threw on my bandanna and the gypsy getup and stared at my reflection i the mirror. Sometimes I wondered why people ever believed such crap like fortune telling. It was all just theatrics and science. It was as easy as studying their behaviour and asking all the right question in order to give them a suitable prediction. Usually I was right, hence the long queues.

I sat at the table and looked around the room - which was garnished with red and gold silk drapes and lots of expensive-looking (but fake in reality) ornaments from chins, India and any other place that could possibly be associated with fortune telling. It was all so ridiculous that it was believable.

"Okay." I rubbed my hands together excitedly and looked at the door.

"Time for the first one". I walked majestically toward the door and called out in an accent that wasn't quite my own. Although, an Irish accent wouldn't ruin the disguise either. A nervous looking guy walked in and I relished in the fun I could have with him.

The guy was like an open book. As he sat down he fiddled with a small charm bracelet on his arm that read "love forever" quite clearly. This was a guy who looked like he didn't get girlfriends all that often, so I guessed that she must show the signs of loosing interest in him. Why else would he be here?

I guessed right.

"Give me your hand son." I said and he put his shaky hand on the table in front of me and I held it. Immediately as I did, I jumped in my chair and sighed sadly. He leaned in and looked utterly shocked.

"What do you see?" He asked and I opened my eyes. My mind started to list out everything that I could possibly get from this guy, to get the money's worth form it (and hopefully some good press).

_What do I see.... Well I see a man who spends a lot of his time inside on his computer - look at his hand, he has websites concerning star wars written on his hands, and his eyes are red and bloodshot from sitting in front of a computer all night long in the dark. Also, he lives with his mother. Why? Because no man can iron so well at his age, he doesn't look a day over twenty-two [and besides, when is that last time a computer geek had his own house at twenty-two, or any man for that matter]. Also, he looks like he had little to no confidence - look at how he crosses his arms and legs defensively, I've rarely seen someone so under confident in here, so he must be here because he need some sort of guidance. Really he should visit a specialist, but I guess I'm cheaper and more to the point._

Deciding that was enough, I tried to come up with a suitable way of putting all of that together, and then I got it.

"Honey, what's your name?" I asked kindly and he gulped a little. I almost felt insulted - I wasn't going to bite!

"It's Steve." I nodded and leaned in toward him, with an expression of pure smugness across my face.

"Steve, she's acting different because she's getting disinterested, she doesn't like you like she used to. I would say it's because you lack any confidence, you need to forget yourself a little and everything will start to sort itself out. Also, I think it's time that you got your own place, nobody respects a man who plans to live with his mother long term. Does that sound familiar to you?" I finished and he looked utterly surprised. I sat back and mused victoriously while he sat there trying to take it all in.

"I...how....who?" I chuckled and leaned in toward him.

"Just go Steve, you know what to do." That line I had used at least fifty times l already, but it meant something different to everyone. He nodded and ran enthusiastically out of the room and shouted at the top of his lungs that I was a genius and a gifted psychic. I wasn't going to argue with him.

The day progressed the same way and so all of my clients had gone. It was no later than eleven O' clock when I went to look out to see if there was anyone there. As I entered the lobby, it looked empty but I wasn't sure, so I called out.

No answer. I walked back into my dressing room and put back on my jumper and tracksuit pants. Just as I left the room I glanced back at a small picture frame and sighed. It had been three years since I had seen her, and I knew I would never see her again. She was dead.

And it was because of me.

I sighed and turned off the light. My heart felt so heavy every time I thought of her, so I needed a distraction before I went crazy from sadness. It had been three years since she was killed, but the pain seamed fresh every time I thought of her, like it was yesterday.

I walked into the main room and went for the light when I heard someone behind me. The fact that they were saying nothing meant that they either meant me harm or there was no one really there. But then, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone breathing slowly and calmly. It had to be option 1 - he wanted to hurt me.

It wasn't like I was unequipped for this, it was a usual occurrence that people tried to mug and beat me up, and on many occasions they succeeded. But I had been at this too long by then to be helpless in such a situation. I considered turning off the lights but I knew that would only cause me more problems.

"Have you any idea how long it's taken to track you down, Cassandra." A deep, smooth voice came from behind me. It took me less than a second to realise who this voice belonged to, because I remembered clearly the last words that passed between us.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Dave."

It was three years ago:

_The world seamed to be utterly empty without her. And I couldn't help but wonder what I was going to do for the rest of my miserable life without her. She was my soul-mate, my best friend. Now, she was a corpse in the cemetery - broken bones and bruised skin._

_ It had been a very tense twenty-four hours. I had been called about hostage situation by a good friend of my, Dave Rossi, who used to work in the FBI. He told me that my dearest friend, Annie, had been taken hostage in a supermarket and that the man inside had a timed explosive, with only had twenty minutes on the clock._

_ As I arrived I met a team of profilers who told me what ad happened. I was calm at this point, because I knew Annie was smart enough to get out of such a mess. The man who took her hostage called the FBI and he requested to speak to Annie's best friend, me. I was very unwilling for a while, but one of the members, Agent Hotchner, convinced me that there was no other way to help Annie. I went on the phone and he asked me a question:_

_ "Do you fear death, Cassandra?" I wasn't sure how to answer the question, so I decided the truth was the best option for now._

_ "Yes." My voice was a lot calmer than I thought it would be. I spoke to the man for about ten minutes when he came out with a random request._

_ "Cassandra, if you answer this question right, I'll end all of this." The words immediately brought a smile to my face, it was all going to be over soon._

_Little did I know...._

_I agreed and he asked what was to become the worst question that I had ever been asked._

_ "Who am I?" He asked and I looked to the team of behavioural analysts who stared back at me with equal horror. They didn't know. I spent the next five minutes of my life trying to think of a suitable answer when I got an idea._

_ "Will you give me a clue?" I asked and I could tell by the way he spoke that he was smiling._

_ "Yeah, sure." That was all I needed. I knew who it was. I took a deep breath and decided that if I didn't do something now, my friend was going to die._

_ "You're her brother. You're Annie's brother." The way that he said 'yeah sure' was enough to convince her of who it was. She remembered that he answered the phone once for Annie, and he had spoken in the same way as he was now. So now all I could do was wait. Annie's brother had disappeared two years before, when he was twenty, he had never been seen until now._

_ There was a painful silence. Then:_

_ "Correct." I sighed and fell back into my chair._

_ "Now to end this."_

_ I lunged for the phone._

_ Everything was a little blurry after that. There was an explosion and I remember the phone dropping from my hands. I also remember Dave trying to shaking my shoulders and shouting at me, but the shock was too immense. I stared blankly at the crumbling building for ten minutes._

_ She was dead, and it was my fault._

_ After the funeral, Dave called me to check up on me every day. He had told me that I was showing signs of clinical depression and that he was worried that I would try something stupid, like suicide. I tried to tell him that I would never do that, but I wasn't myself and so I just didn't know what I was capable of anymore._

_ I heard my phone ring in my bag. I had spent the last two hours sitting silently in the corner - not crying - just sitting there, lifelessly. When I heard the phone I knew that I had had enough, I needed to leave my old life and find a new one - in the hopes that some day I would be able to accept what happened. I walked up and answered the phone._

_ "I can't do it anymore." I said plainly and I knew he suspected the worse._

_ "As bad as everything seams, this is not the answer." I knew what he meant and scoffed._

_ "I'm not committing suicide, I'm just leaving for a while." There was silence on the other end for a moment._

_ "Maybe you should reconsider, your not thinking straight, you can't say what's best for yourself." That hit a nerve. The one thing I hated was when people thought they knew what was best for me. I felt the anger rise in me and I just couldn't hold it in._

_ "And you can? Spare me the shit Dave! This was my fault and you don't have to patronise me by trying to convince me otherwise!" I spat, and hearing the shocked silence at the other end of the phone I felt satisfied._

_ "Please, don't - " I hung up the phone._

_ I left a note on my desk (because I knew Dave would come around after our little conversation) and left with a bag of clothes, money and a photo of me and Annie on holiday in Greece. The note read:_

_** Dave,**_

_** I don't expect you to understand, nor do I want you to look for me. Just leave me figure all of this out, and some day I might be able to forgive myself.**_

I was knocked out of my daze by Dave's concerned voice.

"What are you doing here, Cassandra?" He asked in the same soft tone I remember him using on the phone that day. I sighed and turned to see him. He looked the same as he always did, maybe a little older.

"I'm making a living for myself." I replied and he scoffed bitterly.

"You have a PhD. in psychology and you're making a living as a fortune teller?" He asked cynically.

"I never said I was happy with this, but there's no job for me, not in my state." I said and felt a lump forming in my throat. I cleared it and he immediately noticed. He walked toward me and I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.

"You know you were better off just forgetting about me, Dave." I said, my voice quivering. I felt the warm tears spill down my face and I began to sob. He walked up to me and held me in a tight embrace. He sighed.

"What happened Cassandra?" He asked sadly, but I couldn't answer. It wasn't because I was sobbing, or that my face was buried in his chest. It wasn't that I couldn't admit the truth either.

I knew the cold, bitter truth - that I didn't know who I was anymore. I had forgotten the person I used to be and replaced her with a lifeless wreck, with only one goal in life, survival. I had no friends and spent most of my days alone in my shabby apartment or working as a fortune teller. The truth was bitter, but I knew that this was a sign that I needed to get better soon before worst came to worst.

I sighed inwardly. This was not going to be easy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know its been ages since I last updated but hopefully you'll be patient with me. I have exams coming up in June and its been work, work and more work these past few weeks.**

** As always, please review and tell me what you liked/ didn't like, etc.**

** Go on, you know you want to! ^_^**

** Well, enjoy!**

It had been a week since Dave had appeared and I was beginning to feel a little better. He had convinced me to give up my ridiculous job and my disgusting little apartment. He had told me that I could stay with him, as he had returned to the FBI soon after I had disappeared, and besides, he had enough space and money for the two of us.

I walked into his apartment and gasped, it was beautifully decorated with old furniture and paintings. I turned to him and smiled.

"You never struck me as the decorative type." I said bemused and he shook his head dismissively.

"Well I'll be damned if I let you change any of this. I know you like to rearrange things to your liking, but I'd like the furniture to stay just the way they are." He warned playfully. I scoffed and laughed cheerily.

"I don't do that, how could you suspect such a thing?" i asked in mock surprise and he shook his head dismissively.

I looked into the room and thought about how much rearranging I could do while he was gone to work, but decided that I didn't want to be kicked out of the apartment before I even moved in. I turned to him and sighed.

"You know what I mean." He replied softly and I nodded in agreement.

"Fine, but can I put up my paintings in my room?" I asked and he nodded. Painting had always been a passion of mine when I was younger and I had gotten very good at it from all the practise I got during my college years.

Then, the sound of a phone filled the silence of the room. He reached into his pocket, opened his phone and sighed. He looked up at me apologetically.

"It's fine. Go and do your job." He smiled and threw me the keys. He went to run out the door when he turned to me quickly.

"Do you mind doing the groceries for me?" He asked very randomly.

"Yeah sure." I said and laughed as he hurried down the hall. Even though I usually loathe at the thought of shopping, going to the supermarket sounded more than bearable.

I picked up my things and took them to the spare room. The room was a welcome change from the dump I had been living in for the past few years.

"Years..." I sighed. What was I doing that I could let everything go like this? I sat on the bed and exhaled deeply, trying to just clam down and get my head around all this change. Then, a phone rang downstairs. I jumped from the bed and ran for the ringing sound, shouting helplessly.

"Don't hang up, don't hang up!" I put my hand to to get the receiver when the phone went dead. I grunted and trudged away into the kitchen. As I had suspected, there was a very long grocery list pinned to a notice board. I took it down ad laughed at all the things Dave had no time to buy - mostly vegetables and other healthy foods like fruit. I shook my head and grabbed a coat.

There was a small pile of money on the coffee table in the living room, but I thought that if I would pay for it myself, seeing as he had already let me live in his house, with no questions asked. He had been so kind to me, even after what I had said to him.

"God I don't deserve this." I said and went to get the groceries.

* * * *

The walk into the office was quiet and thoughtful for David Rossi, but as he entered through the official glass doors his quiet, reflective world was filled with the sounds of phones ringing, people shouting and fast-paced typing. He looked at the confusion with a morbid curiosity that only an experienced profiler could. He knew that getting caught in the hustle and bustle would only cloud his judgement. Then, Reid rushed up to him speaking at a million miles an hour.

"We've just got a call from Boston. Three people have been murdered and horribly mutilated and the police have no leads whatsoever." he said in a far too excited voice. But then again, Dave knew how excited Reid was when challenge presented itself.

"Well, let's get started then." Dave said and walked into the meeting room.

* * * *

"Jeremy Atkinson, 35 years old." A picture appeared on the screen and the team cringed collectively at the mutilated face covered in blood on the monitor.

"He was a small-time politician working in the boston area. His face was mutilated, his teeth broken and his tongue was cut out. Also, the police found this." As the picture appeared, Dave leaned forward in his seat.

"The liar?" He asked out loud in awe. Cut into the stomach of the man was the words _The Liar_. Dave sat back in his chair and sighed.

"So he killed a politician for being a liar. That doesn't really surprise me." He said plainly which earned him a few strange looks from the rest of the team.

"What?" He asked accusingly and Emily stifled a laugh.

"There's more." JJ interrupted. She pressed the remote once more and Reid stood up to read what had been painted on the wall in blood.

"Since the womb they have gone astray, the wicked, on the wrong path since their birth, with their unjust verdicts." Reid read out loud, deep in thought at the same time. He turned to the table and nodded, as if having a conversation with himself.

"It's from the bible, Psalms 58:3. It makes sense because the psalm speaks of breaking teeth. The unsub must be killing according to the rules of the bible."

"I bet he believes he's doing the will of god, that killing these men is his earthly duty." Emily said, fixated on the writing that showed up on the screen. Then, JJ gave each of them two other files.

"Here are his two other victims- Melissa Jones and Tommy Reese. They had been found in Melissa's apartment, faces mutilated and genitals had also been mutilated, quite severely according to the coroner." She said.

"Lovely." Dave replied sarcastically.

"There's a lot of rage there. What could be causing him to be so angry?" Hotch asked wearily. The past few months had been hard on him after Hayley's death, and he was especially tired lately because Jack had the flu.

"Maybe he's exacting revenge for something done to him. Maybe his father cheated on his mother when he was young." Morgan suggested.

"Maybe, but that wouldn't explain why he killed Jeremy, he has nothing to do with the other victims." Hotch replied, as cool as always.

"The police said they spoke to Tommy's wife, who said that he had been having an affair. Now, look at this." Another picture appeared of more writing in blood on the wall of Melissa's apartment.

"Well, this guy loves his bible." Morgan said as they read what had been written this time.

"And if your hand should be your downfall, cut it off; it is better to enter into life crippled, than to have two hands and go to hell." Emily read ominously.

"This unsub, he would have to be following his victim for weeks to learn about their lives." Dave remarked warily, aware of the implications of what he had just said. He continues after a moments' thought.

"So he must be stalking another victim right now, and it's been two weeks since they found Jeremy, which means..."

"We don't have much time." Hotch finished Dave's sentence. He stood up and looked at the team authoritatively.

"Be ready to leave for Boston in a couple of hours." He spoke sternly. Everyone agreed and they left the conference room. Then, as Dave walked to his office, he noticed a letter with his name on it lying on a desk in the bullpen. He walked up to the desk when he heard his name being called behind him.

"Hey Rossi." Morgan called out. Dave turned to see Morgan with an evil smile playing on his lips. He sighed, knowing what was about to come.

"I believe you owe me twenty-dollars." He said, the pride palpable in his voice. Dave tut-tutted in mock disappointment.

"Don't you know gambling is a sin, Derek." He replied smartly and Morgan stuck out his hand .

"Pay up Rossi. You lost. I won. Be a man and admit defeat to the greatest practical joker on this earth." He said and Dave sighed in defeat. Dave, in his naivety, had bet that Derek couldn't play a practical joke on everyone in the team, including himself. He had succeeded by pretending to be some crazed killer calling the office, and of course Dave never copped until it was too late. It didn't earn Morgan any friendship points but he sure wanted to win the twenty dollars, and to see the look on Dave's face when he did.

Dave reached into his pocket and took out a twenty. He threw it half-heartedly at Morgan and smiled.

"Don't spend it all in one brothel now honey!" He joked and Morgan tried hard not to laugh, only to break into giggles.

"Touché, Rossi." He replied and Dave walked past him as he continued to chuckle. Then, his phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the number on the screen, it was Cassandra.

Just as he was about to answer, some guy walked into his office with a huge pile of paperwork, clearly intended for him to do it. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to sound angry when he answered. He pressed the small green button.

"Cassandra. What's up?" He asked as casually as he could, but still sounding a little aggravated.

* * * *

I walked down the busy street, filled with a strange curiosity with the world around me. I walked passed street performers, businessmen, beggars, families and even the occasional policeman, and I couldn't hep but feel like I was a part of something again, that I had finally risen out of that dark place in my life and was part of the real world again.

The grocery store was only just around the corner, and I had the strange urge to be social, something which never came naturally to me. I just supposed that it was my new circumstances that were having a positive impact on me. I wasn't complaining anyhow.

As I turned the corner once more, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My heart began to race unexpectedly, and I knew what it meant.

Somebody was following me.

I turned sharply and stared down the street, unaware of the stares I was getting from passer-bys. I was fixed on only one point; a man in a grey hooded jumper - the hood of which was covering his face- stood at the top of the street, making no secret of the fact that he was watching me intently.

I found some comfort in the fact that there was a considerable distance between us, and that we were in a public place, so he couldn't do much until I was alone - something I would make sure never happened.

Despite all this, he began to walk toward me, his walk reminding me of a hunter stalking his prey, and I was under no allusions that he just intended to go browsing in the shop beside me - which just happened to be a cake shop.

I reached into my pocket and got out my phone. I pressed the speed-dial, which calls the only person I really knew, Dave. I put the phone to my ears and started to walk away from the man, panicking at each ring of the phone.

_Answer...... Dave Please answer....... Pleas-_

"Cassandra, What's up?" He asked cooly, but I could hear a hint of anger in his voice - he was having a bad day. I suddenly felt very bad for interrupting him at work - stalker or no stalker {who was, by the way, still walking after me, but I was careful to remain in public view}. God, how selfish was I being, thinking that he would just give up his extremely stressful and time consuming job just to listen to me being paranoid.

"Cassandra? Are you okay?" He asked, obviously concerned by the length of time it was taking me to answer.

"Oh..." I replied stupidly. What was I going to say? _Hi Dave, by the way I'm being stalked by some freak_ - Yeah right.

"I was just wondering......if you like low fat or full fat milk?" I sighed inwardly, it was a valid question, yes, but I knew that I had just wasted his time even more. But I also knew that he would never suspect anything if I asked him something like that. I was, after all getting his groceries for him.

"They're all the same to me, Cass." My stomach tightened. He hadn't called me Cass since before Annie's death - a sign that maybe things were returning to normal (if normal includes being stalked by some freak).

Then, I turned again to look and see if he was still following, and to my relief, he was gone. I relaxed a little and returned to the call.

"Okay, thanks Dave. See you later." I hung up before he could say any more.

Needless to say, I didn't waste any time walking home after my shopping.


End file.
